


Canine-partner-in-crime

by SPCMRose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt Derek, M/M, Stiles takes Derek in to be his best bro, Wolf Derek, Wolf Derek Hale, Wolf!Derek, and stiles thinks derek's hot (human form), his canine partner in crime, little bestiality later on Derek's side cause he likes stiles, the scooby to his shaggy, they don't have sex with derek in his wolf form though (sorry if that dissapoints), underage elements because derek pines after stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPCMRose/pseuds/SPCMRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's good at his job. He gets in and out and steals what he needs. He's on the hunt for a new score when a truck driver decides he makes a good practice target</p><p>He's only out of commission for a few days (he'll be right as rain in a week, a month tops) when some kid adopts him.</p><p>Derek knows he needs to move on... But there's just something about the lanky, sporadic teen that picks him instead of an admittedly cute Yorkshire terrier, that makes him want to stay. Just for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canine-partner-in-crime

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoy :)

 

The Argents were awful people. That was the one solid thought circling Derek’s mind as he slipped away into the night, not looking back at the three story almost-mansion that had him wanting to growl when he’d first laid eyes on it. Derek had chosen that particular family because he’d found out from a friend-of-a-friend that they hunted werewolves. It had sent a thrill through him at the thought of getting back at the family for all the BS crimes they’d committed under false pretenses. All the shit they’d done to his kind in the name of ‘justice’ when in reality it was more of a sport for them. Find those who rely on the moon more than any normal human and then end their life. Skin them. Behead them. Treat them like a _fucking_ trophy.

 

So it was immensely gratifying to be leaving them, knowledge of the half-million that he’d transferred from their accounts into an untraceable savings in Portugal warming his belly. Derek was good at his job. He got in and out and took whatever he wanted. Usually money. Sometimes rare artifacts or collectables he could sell to his contacts. It was all his and he worked alone, glad to be as good as he was without backup.

 

That was one of his hardest jobs. The Argents had extensive, but not as extensive as he’d originally thought, knowledge about werewolves. He’d done a bit of recon first, tested to see if they would recognise his full-shift-form of that of the lycanthrope variety. They hadn’t. Stupid idiots. He’d slipped in and blended into their life seamlessly, whilst sneaking around behind their backs. Hell- he’d been able to sit and watch Chris sign right into his friggin’ bank account. It had been as easy as any of his other jobs, but it hadn’t been any easier on his self-restraint.

 

Wolfsbane had lurked in the belly of their home, itching at his wolf and urging him to _run run run_. There’d been devices that killed werewolves lurking in every corner, bolts tipped with poison and guns filled with bullets that would end him in an instant if his cover broke. But Derek was a master thief, he played the role of the family-dog well (despite looking more like a wolf than a dog, but Derek knew how to make himself seem like anything from a chihuahua to a greyhound.) He earned their trust, bought their love with tongue-licks and snuggles. He fetched the mail, learnt to sit, speak and roll-over for the hundredth time.

 

All the while he’d watched and learned and _planned_.

 

His escape route was simple. Disappear out an open door into the night and never return. Then he’d look for one more score, just a bit more cash before he vanished into the sunset (aka the Sierra Nevada Range.) He’d spent the day acting as his usual self and when the family had gone to bed he had striked. He shifted back to his human form, quickly logging onto Chris’s own computer and pulling up his bank account.

 

The half-million seemed like a poor revenge when he had the chance to just slaughter them all.

 

That would’ve been against his rules though; Rule number one- Get in, get out, take what he wanted and don’t look back.

 

It’d been those rules that had kept him alive, so he did what he’d set out to do and then scurried out the dog-flap (they’d installed a dog flap _just for him_. Idiots.)

 

So then there he was, trotting through backyards with his nose to the ground, tracking scents in an attempt to find the easiest way outta town. He couldn’t stick around, even though he knew it would take the family a long time to make the connection- shorter than most because of their hunting background- he had to move quickly.

 

His ride came in the form of a delivery truck that he overheard was heading to Modesto, California. Even though he could’ve just driven himself if he shifted and rented a car, Derek had found over the years that it was easier to get places in wolf form. If he were on two legs he’d have to talk and explain and Laura had always teased him for his poor social skills. Not that he liked to think about his sister all that often.

 

He snuck into the back via the conveniently open service door, and he settled himself behind a stack of crates that smelled like pine, clay and toxic paint. He huffed, wet nose twitching at the offending smell. It’d have to do.

 

Derek sighed and settled down, resting his furry head on his paws and hoping he could catch a few hours of shut eye. Instead of counting sheep, he envisioned Argent’s face when he found out his money was gone.

 

 

He peered through the dull bars of his current prison and held the honey/amber/rum gaze of a lanky young teen with moles dotting his face like the stars decided to map themselves on his pale, but defined face. The boy smelled of grease and salt and way too much deodorant. It was a horrible scent that burned his nose, though Derek knew if the boy hadn’t practically bathed in such a shitty fragrance he probably wouldn’t have smelled so bad.

 

“Hey there,” the boy was almost _vibrating_ in his excitement and Derek could smell that on him too. This kid was about a second away from trying to pat him through the bars. Derek had long ago had to work past his pride-like nature to let people pet him and ‘rub his belly’ and all sorts of other demeaning things. It always soothed him to remind himself that he’d be gone the next week. “You’re big and scary and very intimidating. But you don’t look like the growly type or the ‘Grr I’m gonna rip your face off’ type, so I’m going to assume you’d be totally cool with me taking you home and becoming your human-bro.”

 

“Stiles, _no_.” Derek’s gaze flickered upwards to look at an exasperated seeming man in a sheriff’s uniform. He smelled of gun oil and coffee with a hint of rum. It was a warm, comforting scent that had Derek whining low in his belly. “We’re not here to pick up a dog- or… whatever the hell that thing is.”

 

Derek had to acknowledge the guy had a point. He was twice as big as any normal dog and his deep-black fur and icy-blue eyes weren’t any normal colors a regular canine would possess. “But dad-”

 

“No. We’re here on a case and no matter how many times you ask for a dog the answer will _always_ be no.” The man turned back to the door where the vet had disappeared through, looking impatient and tired of life’s shit.

 

Stiles (Derek had no idea what kind of a guy would name their kid _Stiles_ , but it wasn’t like he minded anyway… after some of the names his temporary owners called him [He refused to mention the whole ‘Balto’ debacle]) turned back to meet his gaze, looking determined in a way that Derek immediately knew spelt bad news for the both of them. For the whole world, probably. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, fragile human hand darting through the bars to scratch at Derek’s ears. Damn, the kid was good at that. Derek’s leg started thumping without his consent but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’ll change his mind. Help me out though? You look like you could be real good at puppy eyes and if you assist me in taking you home so you can be my sidekick and pranking buddy I’ll totally buy you a bully stick.”

 

Derek wasn’t even remotely interested in the kid’s offered reward, but he _was_ interested in getting the hell out of there- before the vet realized he wasn’t actually a dog. Derek sniffed at the boy’s hand, thought of how easily he could just rip off the kids fingers, and looked back into his too-warm-to-be-brown eyes. There was nothing but trust and hope and _love_ in those eyes and Derek figured if he’d chose anyone to assist him in a jail-break it’d be this guy.

 

Plus, he couldn’t leave by himself. Not with the cage and the cast on his ‘broken leg’ that’d almost healed fully already. He had very few options and only about three of them included _not_ biting someone’s fingers off.

 

So Derek reigned in his prideful manner and yipped happily at the boy, acting, for all intents and purposes, like a dog. His happy bark got the attention of the sheriff, and Derek immediately shut his maw, ducking from the hand still scratching his crown and looked up at the man. He whined and gave the equivalent of a dog-pout and shifted eagerly, paws scrabbling softly against his metal chamber.

 

Stiles was watching him and his scent turned a little bit sour when he saw Derek’s ‘puppy dog eyes’, and the kid turned with big doe eyes to look up at the man who was undoubtedly his father. (Their scents were too similar, features obviously inherited, for them not to be related.) “Aww dad, look at him! He loves me already. Please? Can we take him home?”

Just then the vet returned, bringing with him a files filled with papers. He smelled like a veterinary clinic and Derek had disliked the guy from the moment animal-control had brought him in there. “From what I’ve been able to discern there’s no obvious signs that this had anything to do with an animal attack.”

 

The sheriff smelled of disappointment that he managed to hide in his expression. “I see. If those are your notes I’d love to hold onto them.”

 

“Of course,” the vet handed over the papers and then glanced at the boy in the corner, who was still scratching Derek’s head like he was fucking _born_ to scratch dogs. “They just brought him in a few hours ago. He was hit by a truck out on Maple.”

 

The sheriff winced. “He okay?”

 

“He received a broken right-foreleg and multiple rib fractures. There were a few cuts that weren’t too bad but I had to shave the fur and put some gauze on it. His recovery time is an estimated two weeks.” The vet’s dark gaze caught Derek’s and for a moment the werewolf swore he saw the man’s lips twitch. “He needs a safe place to rest for a while before I can turn him over to the pound. You wouldn’t by any chance be interested in taking care of him? There’s not much space in the clinic and I’d have to keep him locked up pretty much 24/7 because it wouldn’t be professional if I just let him wander around here.”

 

Stiles’ scent saddened even further and with two sets of hopeful eyes on the sheriff, the man could do nothing but adjust his belt and meet the vet’s gaze. He looked absolutely humiliated as though what he was about to do was quite possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever agreed to. “What would we have to keep an eye on?”

 

 

As the vet explained all the medication and treatment plans to the sheriff, Stiles obviously couldn’t contain his excitement because he immediately undid the latch on Derek’s cage. _That_ caught both of the men’s attention, and Derek spied the sheriff tense up as though he worried Derek would rip out their throats, with his teeth.

 

All he did though was sniff at Stiles rather pointedly, and then nudge just a bit more forward so his head now stuck out of the cage and he could look around more freely. He didn’t dare try to leave the confines entirely, because he was pretty sure that’d cause them all to run the fuck away. “That’s a good boy,” Stiles said and _damn_ did the kid smell happy. He was smiling a huge smile that Derek feared would break the boy’s face, but he seemed fine as he leant forward and tucked his nose against Derek’s neck, arms coming up and around to hug him.

 

“Stiles…” The father warned, but the boy ignored him in favor of scratching Derek’s flank. Which resulted in Derek letting out another happy yip because he’d actually been pretty itchy there since he woke up.

 

The vet smiled knowingly as he arranged a few pill bottles and stuffed some extra bandages and gauze into a care package. “It seems your son has made a friend.”

 

“He’s nearly done with highschool, you think he would’ve given up on getting a pet by now.” The sheriff smiled pleasantly. “At least it’s only for a few weeks.”

 

Stiles stiffened at that, and Derek could smell the disappointment pouring off him in waves. He yipped again and then licked a long, wet strip down the teens cheek, which sent the boy into a fit of gleeful laughter.

 

The sheriff and the vet discussed grooming and food. One of the worst things about his thieving career was having to eat dog food. Sometimes he’d get lucky and they’d feed him leftovers, but mostly it was ground whole corn and meat and bone meal for him. “So what’s your name, huh? It’s probably something cool like Fang or Shadow.”

 

Derek just snorted at that, and then turned when the vet spoke up. “He doesn’t have a microchip or any other form of identification. Judging by his temperament I would assume he’s had an owner at some point, but given his physical state it’s been a long time since he’s had a home.”

 

A proper home at least, Derek clarified mentally, then he had to lick the kid again because the poor sap was growing sad once more. Teenagers and their emotional rollercoasters.

 

“Is there anything else we need to know? Or can we go now?” Stiles sent a smile in Derek’s direction. “I wanna buy him a nice beef patty to celebrate our new bro-ship.”

 

Derek hoped desperately that that meant Stiles had given up on the idea of feeding him bully sticks.

 

“Why don’t you go ahead and take him to the car whilst Deaton and I finish up?” The sheriff offered, and Stiles seemed totally cool with that because he shifted backwards and gave Derek space to stand. When he hazarded his first attempt at getting upright, he found himself keening because _fuck_ , his body felt like it had been hit by a truck… well it _had_ been hit by a truck.

 

The vet rounded the exam table, and fuck… of course he had a collar and leash in hand. Derek _hated_ having to wear a stupid collar. “He should be alright to walk, but take things slow and keep him on a leash.”

 

When Deaton handed it over to Stiles, so he could put it on, Derek looked at Stiles with round eyes that conveyed both his grievance at having to wear the thing and his resignation to being put through such torture. Stiles frowned in sympathy. “I know buddy, I feel you. Don’t worry, just to the car then I’ll take it off. You only have to be tied down for a few minutes because this is a non-marital agreement.”

 

Derek whuffed in amusement, and tilted his head so Stiles could easily slide the band on. When it was tightened just right the boy clipped on the leash and started walking him towards the door. Derek progressed slowly, awkward because of the cast on his leg, but it felt good to be moving after lying down in a cramped space for so long. It was worth it, plus, freedom.

 

“Don’t you worry boy, I’m gonna get you a real comfy bed to rest on and we can marathon House M.D. whilst you rest up so you aren’t bored. I’m normally tempted to binge ANTM when I’m home sick but I think there’s only so much trauma you can handle in a certain set period.” The boy rambled, comforting but kind of exasperating at the same time, as he walked Derek out the back door of the clinic.

 

There wasn’t much to see, really. It was quite obviously a small town, space sparse and quant. There wasn't a constant rush of traffic that Derek had had to get used to when he’d been with the Argents, nor were there many pedestrians about. “Over here. It’s going to be a tight fit because- woah, you’re huge- not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’ll try and squeeze into the backseat with you to keep you company, okay? I have complete faith that you won’t eat me, but try not to slobber all over my jeans. I don’t bother ranking my level of love for my wardrobe but if I did I’d have to say these are my favorite pair of jeans.”

 

Derek blinked up lazily at Stiles, but waited patiently as he opened the door to the police cruiser. Stiles then unclipped the leash and stepped aside. “Hope on in,” he said and gestured with perhaps too much enthusiasm.

 

Derek just licked Stiles’ extended hand- eliciting a _Yuck!_ from the boy- and hopped onto the seat. It was hard because of his front leg being pretty much as useless as it would be if it were just a log tied to his torso. But he was a werewolf, so he managed it eventually after a bit of wriggling. Stiles even helped him out by shoving his butt up and over, but he wouldn’t be sharing _that_ part of the story with anyone else. His dignity could only take so many hits.

 

Then, once he was settled and taking up as little room as he could manage (which still ended up being two and a bit seats) Stiles squirmed his way into the space and ruffled the fur on Derek’s neck. “There we go. I knew you were super smart. I recon you already know how to stay and play dead and all that cool stuff. What’s your opinion on pranking then, huh? If I had you as my canine-partner-in-crime no one would catch us.”

 

Derek’s only response was to shift forward ever so slightly and rest his head on Stiles’ lap.

 

 

It didn’t take long for the sheriff to finish up and emerge with a bag of dry kibble and a bag of stuff that Derek sniffed at when it was placed on the passenger seat. He placed his left paw against the police cage and sniffed pointedly. He picked up on faint chemical traces- his medicine, probably- and… something flowery, shampoo maybe. “How’s he going?” Stiles’ father asked, looking back at them, somewhat critically at how close Derek was to his face. Even though they were divided by a metal grate, Derek could still sniff faint traces of fear on the man.

 

Probably on behalf of his son, but Derek wouldn’t dare hurt his new ‘bro’.

 

“Good. Just peachy. He’s got the patience of a zen-master and the badassness of Xena.” Stiles scritched behind Derek’s ears and subtly tugged the wolf back so Derek’s head rested on his lap again. “Scott’s going to be so jealous.”

 

The sheriff suddenly paled. “Melissa can’t find out about this.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“We sort of made a pact… about the whole ‘no pets’ rule.”

 

Stiles grinned, bright and devious as his dad started up the cruiser. “Oh my God! And you caved first! Ahaha, suck it Scott. Damn, see what you did buddy? You broke a seventeen year curse!” Derek flashed Stiles a ‘wolfish’ grin, letting his tongue loll out as the engine sparked to life, tires crunching over worn bitchumen. “We can stop and pick up some stuff for him, right? Like _good_ food and a bed and a brush and some toys?”

 

 _Oh dear God_ , Derek hoped desperately that they wouldn’t buy him one of those stupid stuffed rabbis. He had ripped _way_ too many of those apart in his lifetime and accidental stuffing inhalation was the worst friggin’ thing. “Sure, but we better bring the dog inside, I don’t like the idea of leaving him outside. He’s injured and Deaton said we had to keep an eye on him.”

 

“No problemo daddy-o,” Stiles met Derek’s gaze, and the wolf stared at the kid’s bright eyes. They were a lively color, golden flecks visible as the squad car drove under the sun, light streaming in and hitting Stiles’ eyes at just the right angle. “You’ll be good, won’t you boy? You’ll have to wear the lead again but it’s worth it for your own bed and stuff, right?”

 

Derek just looked at Stiles, quirked a single brow in an attempt to convey ‘nothing will ever truly be worth wearing that stupid thing.’

 

Stiles seemed to understand, because he scratched under Derek’s chin and kissed the top of his muzzle. Then he whispered (loud enough for his father to overhear), “You’ve been great so far. Maybe we can skip the leash?”

 

“No, Stiles.” His dad said immediately. “Not if we’re going into a store-”

 

“Aha! So if we weren’t going in the store than we can skip the whole pseudo-BDSM thing?”

 

His father grumbled an obscenity that Stiles wouldn’t have heard, but Derek had. “That’s not what I said-”

 

“Sweet! Thanks dad!” Stiles turned to Derek and the cheeky glint in his gaze made Derek yearn to roll his eyes. It was almost too much to handle. “Hear that? You don’t have to wear a leash!”

 

“Stiles-” The sheriff began, but then sighed and it was clear he’d given up on trying to change his son’s mind. “If you bring him in without the lead you have to make sure he stays right by your side. Also, take the leash in with you, just in case.”

 

Derek worried Stiles might actually have some kind of issue when he flailed so hard in celebration that he nearly punched Derek. “Hell yeah! We’re going to look so cool and the workers are going to be like ‘oh he’s like a dog whisperer’ or ‘he’s so badass we need his autograph!’ I’ll be the talk of the town, people will give us free shit and want to take pictures with us. I’ll be the first celebrity to come out of BH.”

 

Derek looked to the teens dad for guidance in this situation, but the father was just pressing his palm to his face so Derek figured it best he just let Stiles go on his tangents. Besides, they weren’t all that annoying, if he was going to be honest with himself.

 

 

They pulled up to a tired looking building with a faded sign and too-quiet parking lot. There were only a few people around to actually notice Derek, but once they saw him they stared. And stared. And stared. Until Stiles snapped his thumb and forefinger together and said “C’mon dude” with a cheerful smile. Then they just gaped as Derek obediently followed Stiles, stuck as tightly to his side as he could. He’d listen to the sheriff’s orders, do anything to avoid being lead by a stupid weave of nylon, even if it meant sticking so close to a hyperactive knucklehead.

 

Stiles lead the way, eager as hell to get inside and start shopping. When he opened the door the cashier glanced at them once, frowned at the Derek, but didn’t seem interested in causing any trouble by telling them he had to wait outside.

 

Derek counted that as a win.

 

For the most part Derek and the sheriff followed Stiles around the store, trotting through aisles at a steady pace as the kid picked out various things that he deemed ‘worthy enough’ to be used by Derek. Stiles picked out a bed that was big and soft looking, but Derek was pretty sure he’d be able to commandeer the couch and thus wouldn’t need it, as long as he played his cards right.

 

They got to the meat section towards the end of their journey and Stiles immediately reached for a packet of beef burger patties, but Derek whined and shook his head, sneezing at the awful smell of the meat. He wanted steak, _desperately_. Willing to push his luck, Derek parted from Stiles’ side for the first time in their whole adventure and went to glare daggers into a pack of two premium T-bones.

 

“Can’t deny the laser vision,” Stiles commented as he grabbed the pack that had the latest expiration date and put it in the basket. Derek yipped, pleased that he’d managed to convey his message.

 

Stiles’ dad chuckled and tucked his hands into his pockets. “The dog has taste.”

 

Derek figured the steak would be more than enough repentance for having to mostly survive on dog food.

 

When they checked out Stiles looked at the total a bit too long before paying, and Derek promised himself he’d repay the family when he had the chance. Normally he wouldn’t give a shit how much a family spent on him, whether they paid for expensive grooming or overpriced water fountains for him to drink from, but this family was different. Firstly, it wasn’t a job, it was just a temporary place to hide out until he was better.

 

And... he was kind of growing attached to them.

 

Which was probably a bad thing, but Derek couldn't bring himself to care as he jumped back into the car with Stiles in tow. The sheriff looked at the two of them snuggled up in the rearview mirror, and Derek didn’t miss the tiny smile that grew on the man’s face

 

 

During the ride both Stiles and his father spoke to Derek about the rules of the house. He wasn’t sure why they thought he would understand, if he were a regular dog he certainly wouldn’t. Their faith in him was ridiculous. And so were their rules. (Derek reminded himself to write them down later.)

 

“...And don’t chew on the DVD cases, especially the limited edition Star Wars set.”

 

“Make sure to never to play with my sidearm. The last thing you need is to be hit by a bullet on top of already being hit by a truck.”

 

Derek wondered how a dog was supposed to fire a weapon, but sure. He’d… try not to?

 

“Oh and never leave the TV on! It wastes power.” Stiles added.

 

The sheriff chuckled. “That’s a good point, son.”

 

“Thanks dad,” Stiles scratched Derek’s neck again, looking way too pleased at himself. “Gotta be conscientious about the environment and air pollution and stuff, don’t we Blue-Eyes White Dragon?”

 

Dear God. Derek felt his eyebrows raise as far as they could, even further as he registered what Stiles had just called him. Derek just _had_ to figure out a way to let the kid know his name was Derek. Otherwise his chances of ever having a normal name were pretty slim. (What the hell was a Stiles, anyway?)

 

“I think for even your new genius pet that name might be a bit too much of a mouthful, Stiles.”

 

“We’ll work on it,” the boy promised but there was a glint in his eyes that Derek _really_ didn’t like.

 

Thankfully the name picking had to wait because at that moment the cruiser slowed down and pulled into a driveway of a house that was… a house. Derek uncaringly wriggled himself on top of Stiles, sitting back on his haunches as he balanced on Stiles’ lean legs. “Doggie no!” Stiles complained, but Derek just wanted a better view of the place he’d be staying in for a week… a month tops.

 

There was nothing out of the ordinary, it wasn’t extravagant or sore to the eye. It was just a house. Two stories, fading paint, but in good shape. Derek sniffed, picked up on traces of rust and a hint of freshly mown grass. There was a jeep out front, it looked like it needed about a thousand dollars worth of maintenance, and he hoped to hell it wasn’t the kid’s. Nobody should’ve driven that death trap.

 

“Dad! He’s so _heavy_ ,” Stiles wheezed as the sheriff just laughed and went around to open the door. When the latch clicked and it swung open Derek hopped out, landing on his bad paw (not that it was bad anymore.) “Oh yeah _now_ you get off. Not when I was dying because you’re built like a fucking _tank_.”

 

“Language,” his father reprimanded.

 

Derek may or may not have indulged in the childish act of poking his tongue out at Stiles.

 

The boy glared at them both in turn as he stumbled to his feet, only flailing about four times before he settled. Derek worried greatly for Stiles’ survivability. “I hate you both.” With _that_ bitter retort he stalked up to the front door, spent about thirty seconds fumbling to get the keys to work, and then gave up and just entered via the garage.

 

Derek and the sheriff looked on, then exchanged glances. “Good luck with that,” the man said and then grabbed the bed and headed inside. “Stiles!” Derek heard the guy shout. “Get your butt back out there and grab the rest of the stuff! Don’t forget to lock the car!”

 

There was a loud _thud_ followed by a yelp of pain. Derek just sat and scratched behind his ear, leg thumping in a quick beat. Well, at least he knew he wouldn’t be bored out of his mind.

 

Stiles tumbled back into the outernet, shirt akimbo and lifted just slightly to reveal the barest hint of his waist, a trail of dark, curly hair peeking from the waistband of his brief-boxers. Derek swallowed and turned away. _So inappropriate,_ Derek decided, _BEYOND inappropriate_. _You’re a wolf and he’s a teenager_.

 

“I see you waited for my heroic return. I assume you heard me trip- I did _not_ fall, for the record. That rug appeared out of nowhere.” Derek just lifted a brow at the boy as he walked up to the car and pulled out the bag of stuff. It was clear the boy didn’t have enough hands though (his arms seemed so _fragile_ ) so Derek trotted forward and picked up the rest of the bags with his mouth. His jaw fit easily in the handles of the plastic bags, and he pulled them off the seat with a _yank_.

 

The weight was practically non existent, Derek could’ve lifted- nevermind, he wasn’t about to brag about how much he could lift- but Stiles seemed to think those few parcels would break his neck because he panicked (flailing again, oh boy…) and dropped the bags he was carrying to try and grab the bags from Derek’s maw. “No! Don’t do that, you’ll crack your teeth or something. What if you dislocate your muzzle? I don’t think you wanna go to the vet again so soon.”

 

Derek deadpanned at Stiles, trying to convey exactly how much of an idiot Derek though the boy was, before trotting forward and picking up the stuff Stiles had dropped, only worsening the terrified expression on Stiles' face. To make the moment perfect, Derek bumped against his leg as he ambled towards the house as though to say 'move it grandma.'

 

"You- But I- Jesus," Stiles sighed and Derek didn't bother to turn back as he hear the kid lock the squad car and follow after, heels dragging as he sulked.

 

When he emerged inside of his ~~new~~ temporary home, Derek was immediately hit bye a scent of _warmsafe **den**_ that had his instincts going wild, wanting to mark the area as his own and claim the territory. He summed it down to being the mix of both Stiles and his father's scent getting the best of his wolf side. He did his best to ignore the tug to _protectscentmark_ and put the bags down over by where the sheriff had left the bed.

 

Once that was done he allowed himself to take a look around. There was a comfy looking couch in the living room, and he could just make out the edge of a plasma from his position by the kitchen counter. As Stiles entered through the garage, Derek wandered over to the boy, unable to resist following him- and to stay close to his side where the smell of salt (and... peaches?) was strongest

 

"If you fail as my prank bro at least you'd make a great grocery bagger," Stiles commented absently, heading for the hallway. "Come on, I suppose I should give you a tour."

 

Derek trailed along happily, letting himself sniff at every new smell and- to hell with it- he even let his tail wag. It brushed against Stiles as it swung back and forth, proof of Derek's excitement. This was where Stiles _lived_. Of course Derek wanted to find out as much as he could about his new 'bro.'

 

"So this is downstairs. Living room's here- as you can see I've got plenty of movies and series to keep us entertained and worse come to worse I've got a part time job at the PD so I'm able to buy my own Netflix subscription now. Dad wouldn't let me because he worried it's interfere with my grades but jokes on him because I'm never more focused than when I have Dean and Sam as my heroes.

 

Then we've got the kitchen, your usual stuff like a stove and a fridge and a coffee pot. We'll probably end up putting your food bowl here so it best you recognise this as your source of sustenance now before you start gnawing on the couch. It's also where I study sometimes or dad ponders over case files. _Those_ are pretty much the only papers I'll ask you **not** to mess with under penalty of getting shot-"

 

"I wouldn't shoot the dog," the sheriff commented absently as he switched on the telly. "I'd shoot you for being a bad pet owner."

 

"Daaaaad," Stiles whined but moved along. "Oh yeah but if you ever want to eat my homework, or just chew it up a bit, that'd be cool."

 

Derek wouldn't make any promises. Paper tasted gross.

 

"Now here's the laundry room. Try not to get anything that's just been cleaned dirty. And don't stick your head in the dryer! I've seen Bolt, and how easy it is for dog's heads to get stuck. Oh! And over here is just the sad bathroom that only has a toilet and sink. We don't have a doggie-door... Yet, though I can't promise anything because that's up to da to decide on-"

 

"Only if he earns it!"

 

Stiles grinned. "Well there ya go. Want a doggie-door? Then you need to earn it. So anyway, that probably means we'll keep newspaper in here for you to use in the meantime."

 

Derek hated using newspaper. He'd use the toilet, thank you very much.

 

"Shall we take this party upstairs?"

 

They'd stopped in front of a staircase and Derek wasn't sure if he was ready to see, or _smell,_ their bedrooms. If his wolf had reacted so strongly downstairs he had no idea how bad it might get if he were standing in the middle of where they _slept_.

 

Eventually curiosity won out, not that he was surprised (he was surprised that Stiles was actually waiting for his answer) and Derek found himself barking in agreeance.

 

Stiles grinned widely and started bounding up the stairs, trying to take them two at a time- failing miserably- and then settling on one stair at a time because, "Heh. Why rush it, hmm?"

 

Once again Derek found himself moving slower than the human, unable to maneuver the stairs as easily as he normally would because one of his legs wouldn't bend. He tried just holding it out to the side at first, but that only made it more awkward so he settled on holding it tight to his torso and slowly making his way up on three legs.

 

Stiles was patient though and was waiting for him at the top (really it hadn't taken him more than a minute but it was still super embarrassing considering he had super strength and speed and agility etc.) "You made it all on your own! Awesome. You really are badass. I'll show you dad's room first, save the best for last."

 

Derek followed behind and they stopped in front of a mostly closed door that was _exuding_ the sheriff's scent. "He keeps his gun in that room. Best you don't enter unless invited. Righty-o, to the bathroom we go!"

 

Stiles turned and walked away but Derek took a moment to just stand there and take it all in. His wolf was reacting oddly to the overwhelming scent of Stiles' father. He had the strange urge to bear his throat, show his belly. To _pleaseserveprotect_ like he would his alpha.

 

"This is the bathroom. Dad has an ensuite so I use it mostly. Please feel free to also use it... That is whenever I get 'round to putting newspaper down. We'll probably wash you in here too once we figure out how to protect all your bandages and cast and stuff- have a real Marley & Me moment where you'll splash us with water like a jerk."

 

Derek couldn't _wait_ for that.

 

Then they were turning and heading towards a door that sent an excited shiver through Derek's bones. "My room. Casa de' Stiles. _Mi casa e su cas_ a and all that. You'll probably be spending most of your time here so… Yeah, make yourself at home. If you didn’t already get that.”

 

And then like a moment from an overly-dramatic movie, it was like slow motion as Stiles twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

 

It was the smell that hit Derek first. It was deep and rich and perfect and overwhelming. It was peaches and junk food and energy drinks and _dearfuckingGod **spunk**_. It was home and life and _future_ , HIS future. It was the place Derek wanted to spend the rest of his existence in, just rolling around and soaking up every fucking _molecule_ of scent.

 

“Sorry for the mess, but I mean compared to Scott’s room this is a penthouse. His room’s like.. a minefield. One wrong step and you land in a three week old sorta-empty pizza box.” Stiles sauntered in like it was nothing, but paused when he realized Derek hadn’t moved. “Scoobs?”

 

 _That_ snapped Derek out of it, because there was ‘ro rucking ray’ he was going to be named after that dog. He hesitantly made his way in, trying to keep himself from freaking out as he ducked his head low, unable to resist pressing his nose to the ground and taking it all in. There was layer upon layer of _Stiles_ all around him and his wolf wasn’t sure where to focus.

 

“My closet, my drawer- don’t take all of my left socks-, my desk and my waifu AKA my laptop. Then you’ve got my desk chair, many-a naps have happened here, and of course my bookshelf. It’s got your classics like THG and HP, then a good ol’ D&D handbook. Plus all the novels we have to read for school.” Stiles stopped in front of the bed, and Derek didn’t keep his tail from wagging in excitement. He wanted ON that bed. It was small, but he was more than happy to squeeze in next to Stiles, hopefully, in the near future. “And of course, my bed. Where all the ‘magic’ happens.”

 

Derek didn’t even realize he was whining (he was _not_ sulking) until Stiles dropped down in front of him and grabbed his head with his hands, forcing his eyes to meet the boy’s. “Hey, hey, hey~ What’s wrong now? You hungry or something?”

 

 _Fuck_ , a shiver ran through Derek. He was _very very_ hungry, but not for food.

 

“I’mma take that as a yes. Let’s go break out that steak, huh?” Then Stiles ruffled his fur and Derek leant into the touch.

 

To hell with the steak, Derek just wanted for Stiles to keep touching him like that.

 

 

Stiles seared off the steak and grilled it, telling Derek to ‘bark’ when he was happy with it. Kind of a ridiculous thing to ask a dog, and the sheriff seemed to agree, but Stiles just winked at his dad when Derek _did_ bark. Stiles served it in the dog bowl (which was only 60% humiliating) and Derek wolfed it down like a… wolf. “Damn, that’s rare,” Stiles commented when he saw the blood leak from the juicy steak.

 

Derek just whuffed and ripped apart another chunk.

 

Stiles made a slight gagging sound, but let him be as he started unpacking all the stuff he’d bought. “A big dog like you probably means you need a lot of exercise,” Stiles commented as he unpacked a ball, a frisbee _and_ a tug-of-war rope. “Although… I’ve come to realise fetching is probably below you.”

 

Derek scoffed his agreement.

 

“We could run? It’d help out for lacrosse.”

 

His dad spoke up, seeming sceptic. “You’re offering to _run_? Through your own free will?”

 

Derek was very much interested by this idea and he showed it by wagging his tail because his mouth was busy chowing down on his awesome treat. “I will do _anything_ -” Derek nearly melted at that offer. “-To seal the growing bond between my soul-pet and I.”

 

“Sure you will. Just make sure you take your phone with you if you do go running.”

 

“Everyday I worry about the lack of faith you have in me,” Stiles muttered. He’d emptied all of the bags, toys stacked in a pile (yup, that’s a stuffed toy rabbit) and treats in another. There was a pile for Derek’s medical supplies and then a group of basic stuff he’d need to care for a dog like a brush and nail clippers.

 

They’d really gone all out for him.

 

“I’ll put this stuff away whilst you finish off your dinner which looks, quite frankly, like something for a gory horror movie.” Stiles patted him quickly on the back before grabbing an armload of things and started putting everything away. Derek watched him go, brow quirked in concern as he’d become well aware that Stiles had some balance issues. When the kid disappeared around a corner and Derek didn’t hear anything bad happen he turned back to his food.

 

The sheriff approached eventually, footsteps slow and heavy as the sunset casted orange/purple glows across through the kitchen. Derek gobbled up the last of his meal and then sat back on his haunches, looking up at the man whilst he licked his chops. “You’ve got my son wrapped around your finger, don’t ya’ boy?” He grinned and crouched down, tilting his head as he got a good look at the slight hint of teeth that was poking out. “You’ll be good for him, yeah? Make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble?”

 

“Are you giving my dog the shovel talk?” Stiles called.

 

Stiles’ father just rolled his eyes, as though the idea was both stupid and totally inappropriate- which it technically was in reality, but Derek kind of had to disagree. He gave Derek a gentle pat on his uninjured shoulder and then walked off, returning to his place on the couch.

 

 

Stiles set the dog bed up by the couch and ~~the pack~~ everyone settled down in the living room. Stiles had his laptop out and was complaining about having to do an assignment when ‘he’d just found the world’s best doggie companion’. Derek listened on, amused. “Calm down Stiles, the dog needs his rest anyway. He just got hit by a truck for Pete’s sake!”

 

“But _daaaad_ ,” Stiles complained but didn’t say anything else after that.

 

Derek just smirked the only way a wolf could and settled his head down on his paws.

 

He must have fallen asleep because when he next opened his eyes it was to the sight of Stiles kneeling down in front of him, amber eyes crinkled around the edges as he gave Derek a smile. The werewolf was just glad his tail didn’t betray him right at the moment- Stiles was _too pretty_ for his own good. “You’re _adorable_ when you’re asleep. Less grumpy and salty, more puppy-like.”

 

Derek huffed at that, but he pushed himself to his legs, stretching as his jaw cracked in a massive yawn. He arched his spine, stretched his forepaws as far as they’d go with the limit of his cast on his right leg. “Need to go outside or anything before we head to bed?”

 

To answer the boy’s question, Derek turned and started making his way up the stairs. Stiles followed behind him this time, spotting him just in case he stumbled. Derek had mastered the art of getting up stairs though, and when he reached the top he gave a happy bark- making sure to keep it quiet because judging by the darkness outside it was pretty late. “My room okay?” Stiles asked as he made his way into his bedroom, placing his laptop on his desk before stripping off his shirt. Derek totally didn’t stare. He didn’t watch the way Stiles’ back flexed, admire the lean build of his body and imagined how he’d look once he’d grown into his lengthy limbs.

 

 

Derek finally entered the room when Stiles stood and waited for him. He hurried his way inside, only a teensy bit shameful, not that Stiles gave any indication he’d noticed or understood Derek’s pause. “I’mma shut the light off, and the door’s gonna be open enough for you to get out if you need to pee or whatever.” With that memo he shut off the lights and then collapsed, face first into his bed. The navy blue comforter swallowed him whole, and the only thing that Derek could see was the back of his head.

 

That wouldn’t do.

 

Making sure not to disturb the boy too much, Derek jumped up onto the bed- even though Stiles had brought the doggie bed up for him. Stiles let out a surprised squawk as Derek wriggled his way up the teen’s side and eventually found himself with his back against Stiles’ side, head resting on the same pillow Stiles’ was using.

 

“Huh. I didn’t take you as a snuggler,” was all Stiles said before wrapping an arm around Derek (Derek tried very hard not to sink into the touch too much) and resting his forehead against the back of the lycanthrope’s head. “Nighty-night, dude.”

 

Derek checked quickly for any dangerous entry points and located all of the exits- he always did, it was instinctual ( _protect the pack, protect protect)_ \- before letting his eyes fall shut.

 

The boy’s breath was warm against his neck, ruffling his fur softly.Even though it was kind of inappropriate [on soooo many levels], Derek found himself happier than he’d been in a long time.

 

_Good night, Stiles._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.  
> Comment if you want more :)  
> Next update should be out in a few days. Hoping this to be around 20k-40k words I'll try to limit myself.


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